The Way Things Are
by InvitationToIllusion
Summary: Ok, well, hard to explain.. This is set in the episode of B.U.A.B.S. What is happening in dean's P.O.V. Slight Spoilers.PLease review! It's not that much effort... I'm desperate to hear what you think!


Dean pushed open the door of the empty warehouse and walked quietly outside. Sam was defiantly possessed, and he had in inkling of whom. But he pushed the thought from his mind and scanned the pier. He couldn't see Sam, and he couldn't hear him. But he was there, somewhere, and Dean wanted to find him before he did any more damage.

Looking around himself, he peered into the dark.

"Damn it." He cursed himself. He'd let Sam get away, and he was worried.

An urge pushed him to walk to the end of the pier. Looking down into the water, he watched the ripples spread. The sound of a cocking gun brought him back from his thoughts, and he looked up, weary, as Sam stood on the pier behind him.  
Sam raised the gun, and Dean widened his eyes. Turning side on, he knew that Sam wouldn't miss. He'd taught him not to.

The muzzle flashed and the sound boomed, carrying over the water as Dean flew backwards through the air, carried out over the water by the force of the bullet. The pain coursed though him and all he felt was agony, and he hit the water clumsily, breath punched out of him by the force of the bullet. Swallowing some of the water, his head broke the surface and he took a quick breath before diving down again. Swimming under the pier, he reached out a freezing hand and grabbed one of the poles, wrapping an arm around it to keep himself afloat. Looking down at his shoulder, he watched as his blood fanned out from the wound and his teeth chattered as his body threatened to betray him, letting him sink.

He looked above him, hearing Sam's footsteps above his head, and he hung motionless to the pole as Sam checked the water before walking off.

Letting out a ragged gasp, Dean moaned and started swimming clumsily towards the pier ramp. His shoulder ached and he whimpered once, pulling himself up until he was half in, half out of the water.

There, he collapsed and lay still, sucking in great, ragged breaths of air. He turned and vomited the water out of him, chest heaving.  
Suddenly, his phone started ringing, and he moved a freezing hand to answer it, but dropped it in exhaustion.

He lay there, panting, hearing footsteps sound near him.

He was so cold, and he felt so helpless. He couldn't move, the pain was too excruciating, and he was at the mercy of whoever was coming.  
The ringing stopped, and then started again. The sound of footsteps sounded once more, too close for comfort, and then he heard a voice.  
"DEAN! DEAN!" Jo's voice pierced the night and he shook uncontrollably. He heard the footsteps stop and felt Jo kneeling down next to him, turning him over and lifting him up.

"Dean! Are you ok?" Her hand brushed his and all he felt was warmth, he coughed and shivered.  
Unable to control himself, he moaned inwardly at the pain and his bottom lip quivered as Jo pulled him into her arms.

"Where's Sammy?" He mumbled brokenly, shivering once again.

"He's gone. Dean, I need to get you fixed up."

He held his arm protectively, stumbling as he stood, Jo's arms were around him, helping him walk, and he almost fell over at the pain but she kept him upright with her body. Her hands were warm and her body radiated heat as she pretty much carried him back to the bar.

She kicked open the door and turned the heater up full with her foot, before placing Dean down on an armchair, facing a table. She stripped her jacket and her jumper off, before moving to his side. He shivered and didn't see the sympathetic longing on Jo's face as she helped him out of his Jacket too, pulling off his outer shirt and rolling his t-shirt up to his shoulder, exposing his bullet wound.

"Hang on a second, Dean." Jo's soft voice said, and she left the room, coming back with a glass of water, a first aid kit and a large bottle of alcohol.

Jo disappeared once more, and he slowly started to thaw out as she stood in the kitchen doorway, holding the first aid tweezers.

She looked at him longingly, and once more he didn't see it, before she moved to his side.

"Right, Dean, I need to get this bullet out of you, okay?"  
Her hair hung about her face like mist, but she pushed it back.

"Yeah, I know." Dean said, looking at her before squinting his eyes with pain.

Jo reached to the bottle of alcohol and opened it, holding out the glass bottle to Dean.  
HE looked at it and took it from her, taking a swig of it.

Jo pulled her chair closer and inspected the wound, biting her lip in thought.

Then, she inserted the tweezers into the bullet wound and pushed, trying to feel the metal bullet.

"Oh, Gosh." He mumbled, taking another swig to dull the pain.

"Don't be a baby." Jo said rudely, but she smiled all the same.

"Got it." She said, dropping the bullet into the glass of water.

"You butcher." Dean said, flexing his muscles as Jo stitched the wound up.

"You're welcome." She said, annoyed at his remark. As Jo finished taping the wound, Dean finished off the alcohol and stood.

"What are you doing?" Jo asked incredulous.

Dean grimaced and managed to hide it under a bored yawn. "I need to get to Sam. He might be after another hunter."

Jo nodded. Turning away from him, she muttered,"Ok, just let me grab my jacket."

Dean started. "No, you're not coming."

Jo glared at him. "Why the hell not!?" She asked, fired up at his remark.

Dean shrugged, not a good option when you had just been shot in the shoulder. Dean pushed the pain aside and focused on trying to convince Jo that this was not optional. She was staying, full stop.  
"Because, Sam's my responsibility. Now listen, if you even try to follow, I'm gonna tie you back to that pole, you hear me?"  
He knew that he should be thanking Jo for saving his life but frankly, he didn't have the time. Sam could be killing anybody right now.  
Jo took on a hurt look and nodded. "Ok."  
Dean turned and walked to the door, stopping as Jo called out to him.  
"Hey, take these." She said quickly, throwing him a prescription bottle.  
Dean nodded in thanks, and turned, walking to the door,. Each step was wrong, each step taking him further and further away from at least one friend he had, but Dean was doing this for her safety as well as his.

If he didn't get close to people, then those people don't get hurt.

Unfortunately, this was one of the bad things with the gigs, but Dean had to accept it.  
It was just the way things were.

-FINIS-


End file.
